No, not juggling the books. I’m not doing anything funny
with my taxes or other financial accounts. I’m just trying to read three books
at once.

That’s pretty typical for
me, and last week was no different. I often have one book that I’m struggling
to get through, one that I carry in my purse to read while waiting in line or
at the doctor’s office, and one that I enjoy during my at-home reading time. But
that creates a problem when I start reading the book in my purse and become
absorbed in it before I have finished the one I’m reading at home.

The book I was enjoying
at home is Rescuing Ivy, an early
middle grade book by Karen Kulinski. It’s a five star book with plenty of cliffhangers
to keep me turning the pages. But I had to put it down in the middle on
Saturday so I could run errands before my writer’s critique group meeting.

While out, I stopped at a
restaurant for lunch and began reading my purse book, which was An Unsuitable Job for a Woman by PD
James. Even though I had read it before, I had trouble putting it down. So when
I got home after my meeting, I had to choose between two books when I really
wanted to read both. I may be good at multi-tasking, but I’ve never learned to
read two books at the exact same time.

In the end, I chose to
finish Rescuing Ivy because it was a
much quicker read. An Unsuitable Job for
a Woman has now become my home reading. But I really should get back to . .
.

The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe is the book I’m
struggling with. I’m a sixth of the way through, and not much has happened yet.
What little action there is was wrapped in description and lecture the way
Ralphie’s little brother was swaddled in snowsuits and scarves in A Christmas Story. That was a common
practice for authors in the 18th and 19th centuries, but
writers like George Eliot at least managed to make the wrapping interesting.

So why do I keep
returning to The Mysteries of Udolpho and
trying to slog through the next bit? It isn’t a compulsion to finish every book
I start—I broke myself of that in graduate school when we were assigned to read
Portnoy’s Complaint. But The Mysteries of Udolpho is considered
the archetypal Gothic novel, and Jane Austin makes fun of it in Northanger Abbey. Although few people
claim that it is good literature, it did influence many first-rate authors, so
I feel that I should read it. Still, I’m not taking bets on whether I will ever
make it to the end.

For now, I’m happy to get
back to An Unsuitable Job for a Woman.
Let’s hope I finish it before I start my next purse book.